


Feathered Friends

by Perpetual Motion (perpetfic)



Category: Batman (Comics), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 02:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetfic/pseuds/Perpetual%20Motion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint runs into an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feathered Friends

“Clint?”

Clint and Phil are eating take-out Pho in the park, sitting at a picnic table in half-shade, Clint grinning as Phil sips down the broth in his take-away cup so there’s room to add more noodles. He doesn’t turn when he hears his name because not responding to his given name is undercover operations 101. He just keeps grinning at Phil until a man walks up to the table and stops well in his line of sight.

“Clint Barton?” he asks. 

Clint looks at him. The guy is tall, broad shouldered with a narrow waist and shaggy black hair. He’s wearing a leather jacket, a blue t-shirt, and jeans. It takes Clint a moment to place him. He hasn’t seen him since he was fifteen. “Dick?” he asks. “Dick Grayson?”

“Yeah. Hey, how are you?” Dick Grayson grins, wide and open, and now Clint can remember him exactly as he was when they were younger, goofing up in the eaves of the tent as they waited to go on. He stands and holds out his arms, and Dick hugs him tight for a second. When they pull away from each other, Phil is shredding bits of chicken into his Pho, a raised eyebrow his only question.

“Holy shit, man,” Clint says. He thumps Dick on the shoulder and turns to face Phil. “Phil, this is Dick Grayson. He was in Haly’s. It was a rival circus, and we’d run into each other sometimes. Dick, this is Phil. He’s…” Clint pauses, trying to pick a word that will describe Phil without giving away too much. “He’s Phil,” he says.

“Nice to meet you,” Dick says, shaking hands with Phil.

“Why don’t you join us?” Phil offers. 

“If I’m not intruding.”

“Not at all,” Phil replies because he’s fascinated by the fact that Clint has not only greeted someone warmly but gone so far as to introduce him. “You were in Haly’s, you said?”

“I was, yeah.” Dick sits and runs a hand through his hair. “That was a long time ago, though.”

Clint winces. “Right. Yeah.”

“It’s okay,” Dick says.

“I saw the Flying Graysons perform once,” Phil says. “You were very good. At least, I assume it was you.” Phil moves his leg just before Clint kicks him in the shin.

“That was us,” Dick says. He doesn’t look sad, just wistful. “It was a hell of a way to grow up.”

“And you met Clint while on the road?”

“Yeah. Haly’s and Carson’s would team up sometimes, do a big double-show. Clint and I did some tightrope work together.”

Phil smirks at Clint. “So that’s where your love of high places comes from.”

“Amongst other places,” Clint says, and Phil remembers a conversation when Clint told him he’d hide on the roof to get away from his dad. “But the tightrope was my favorite.”

“He was great,” Dick says. “Steady as a rock.” Dick looks at Clint. “What are you up to now?”

“This and that,” Clint answers. “Keeping busy.”

A shrewd look passes across Dick Grayson’s face, and Phil watches with interest as Dick quickly catalogs every inch of Clint he can see. The short hair and callused hands, the size of his biceps and the scar just above his ear where he’d been winged by a bullet a few months ago. Dick’s gaze comes to rest on the black case resting in Clint’s lap; the carrying case for his bow.

“This and that?” Dick asks. 

“Yeah,” Clint says. “You know how it is.”

“Not really,” Dick says, and Phil catalogs him as Dick switches topics. His knuckles are callused, one slightly off-center like it’s been broken. There are numerous, thin white scars on his neck like someone’s pulled a knife on him more than once. The fringe of his hair is disguising a set of stitches just under his hairline at the top of his forehead. When he turns more towards the light, Phil catches a greenish tinge on his jawline that’s clearly an old bruise that’s just finishing healing.

“You were taken in my Bruce Wayne,” Phil says when there’s a pause in the conversation. Dick, to his credit, doesn’t jerk his head to look at him, but there’s tension in his shoulders now. “I think I read that somewhere.”

“Yes,” Dick says. “After my parents were killed, Bruce took me into his home.”

“A good family, the Waynes,” Phil says. He can feel Clint watching him, trying to figure out where he’s going with this. “Good for Gotham.”

“I’ll tell him you said so.” Dick stands and stretches, and his t-shirt rides up. Phil catches a glimpse of puckered skin nearly the same color as Dick’s stomach, wonders who was shooting at Dick Grayson five years ago. “Here,” Dick says, reaching into a pocket on his jacket and pulling out a business card. “Call me sometime, Clint, we’ll catch up more.”

Clint takes the card and grins. “I’ll do that,” he says. “I don’t have anything as fancy—” He raises an eyebrow when Phil holds out one of his own cards. “You sure?” Clint asks. “Don’t want you to be without those.”

“It’s fine,” Phil assures him. He watches Clint scrawl his name and number, watches Dick Grayson read the front of the card (SHIELD, Phil Coulson, and his phone number), and watches them say goodbye to one another, lifting his hand in a wave when Dick does so first. Once they’re alone again, Phil goes back to dunking noodles and herbs in his takeaway broth and waits for Clint to say something.

“Nightwing,” Clint says under his breath. “It took me a minute, but I’d know that ass anywhere.”

“I should be jealous,” Phil replies. 

“Nah,” Clint assures him. “I might know that ass, but I’d much rather have yours.”

“Charming,” Phil says.

“You think you’ll actually recruit him?”

“No, but I want Bruce Wayne to know we know about him.”

Clint pulls a face. “That’s a little creeper.”

“He’s a full-scale vigilante with possible sanity issues. I want him to know we have eyes on him.”

“Do we?”

“Not in any serious way, just occasional reports from the Gotham office when he does something interesting.”

Clint looks towards the direction Dick had headed when he left. “We were just a couple of circus kids. How’d we both end up trying to save the world?”

“You’re steady as a rock,” Phil says. The smile Clint gives him makes him warm inside. “And your ass is far superior.”

Clint laughs. “I’ll take your word for it,” he says, and he leans over and steals some of Phil’s noodles with his fingers.

 


End file.
